The Virgin's Sacrifice
by Sarinati
Summary: Modern Day. She was on the search for the father of her unborn child. He didn't even know who she was. The story of how life can be bias and how fate can bring together two people who need it most.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I've always wanted to try a modern-day Phantom story. My mind was actually_ hurting_ trying to think of an idea that wasn't plagiarizing some other story I've read before. And then the strangest thing happened. I had a very vivid dream, where I dreamt the perfect story for me to write, and would be fun to write too. So…I'm writing it. Hope you all enjoy. Please read and review (support the addiction).**

**I don't own Phantom of the Opera.**

**Courtney**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"Christine?"

She closed her eyes when she heard her friend speak from the doorway of the bathroom. Worry etched in her voice; it was obvious. Why wouldn't Meg be worried if she had come to pick Christine up for work and instead found her kneeling in front of the toilet, one hand holding her brunette hair back and the other steadying herself with the seat rim?

"Meg…whatever you're thinking, I'm not anorexic. I didn't do this on purpose." Christine smiled in spite of herself. She had woken up that morning feeling fine, but just as the coffee had finished, a wave of nausea had hit her. She had gone running into the bathroom of herapartment and made it just in time. She had sat there for a solid half an hour, throwing up when the wave of sickness hit.

Meg ran over to her, squatting down next to the sink.

"Oh, Christine, I would never think that! It's just…for the past few days I've been coming here and you've been in front of the toilet throwing up. How can I not be worried about you?"

Christine sighed and stood up. She flushed the toilet and went to the sink to wash her hands.

"We have work today."

"I know…"

"Are you going to be okay?"

Christine turned around and let out an exasperated sigh. All she needed was caffeine and some work to get her mind off things.

"Meg, I'll be fine! Now, give me ten minutes to get ready. We'll go to work just as soon as I'm done."

"Alright. Be quick; we don't want Firmin getting angry with us again for being late."

Christine laughed. "Meg, we're _always_ late. We're late right now! And we still have to get coffee."

Meg shrugged off her purse and set it down. "Well, what I'm saying is that we should at least _try_ to not be late as often. We're not the best employees, are we?"

Christine shrugged andtugged on a dark red shirt and threw her nightgown into the laundry hamper.

"Meg, he wouldn't fire us. We're too good to let go, and he knows it. But maybe we're taking this advantage a bit too far…"

She trailed off and stared out the window. Christine could tellMeg was agitated; she didn't like being late often. She was the type of person who would get nervous quickly and got clammy and cold when she was yelled at by a higher being. At the moment, that certain higher being was Firmin, their boss.

She pulled on a black skirt and slipped on some heels. Meg turned back around just as she was tying her hair back quickly. Christine grabbed her purse and keys and followed Meg out the door. She locked it and headed towards the elevator.

"Shouldn't you get something to eat, Christine? You've thrown up everything in your stomach."

Christine glanced at Meg as the elevator door began to open.

"I'll get something when we get coffee," she replied lazily.

"Do you really think we should stop for coffee this morning? We're late enough as it is. We can always have some coffee at work…"

Christine laughed and pressed the main floor button. "Meg, we both know that the coffee at work isn't good for you. And I need something to eat. Firmin won't get mad, and even if he does, I'll take the blame."

Meg relaxed considerably at this. Finally, she caved. "Okay, we'll go get coffee. But café mochas aren't good for you either. And you shouldn't be drinking anything like coffee anyways! You've been throwing up all morning. You should be drinking something like water."

Christine held up her hands in defeat. The elevator slowed to a stop at the main floor, and they stepped out.

"Miss Daae?"

Christine froze, causing Meg to shoot her eyebrow up into her hairline.

"Christine, isn't that your landlord? You know…he looks angry."

She turned around to come face to face with a furious Andre. Her landlord. Oh_ joy_.

"Miss Daae, I haven't gotten your monthly rent. I need it! When am I going to get it?"

"I'll get it to you as soon as I can, Andre! I promise. We're getting our paychecks this Thursday. I'll pay you then, okay?"

His red face died down a bit and he slumped his shoulders. Christine felt guilty; this happened every month. She had been living at this apartment house for 2 years, in the same room, apartment 7B. She knew that she put Andre through lots of stress, but the short man put up with her. She was surprised that she was still living here, and not living with Meg.

"Alright, Miss Daae. I'm expecting it from you no later than Friday! Can you promise me that much, at least?"

"Of course. Now, if you'll excuse me, we're kind of late." She turned around to point at Meg who was standing awkwardly by the door. She adjusted her purse and tapped her foot a little to exaggerate.

Andre sighed. "Go, Miss Daae. Have a good day at work, and say hello to Firmin for me."

Christine put on a smile and started to walk over to Meg.

"You have a good day too, Andre, and I will say hello to him for you!" She called back over her shoulder and waved a little with her keys still in her hand.

Meg closed the door and Christine heard the lock clicking into place. She saw Meg's car waiting for them in the same spot as usual; not right in front of the door, but about 20-foot walk to the right.

"So…" Christine said with the most cheerful voice she could muster as she climbed into the passenger seat. "Starbucks or Manhattan?"

Meg just laughed and started the car.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This is why I'm always scared of starting a new story…a lot of people will read it, but barely any of them will actually review. Like, right now, when I'm writing this, the story has 88 hits, yet only 4 reviews.**

**(sigh) I guess nothing can be perfect. My only hope is that some more people will review…if you're wondering why I'm so obsessed with reviews, it's because I am a review whore. A lot of fanfiction writers have this problem; I am one in many.**

**Please, support my addiction and read and review.**

**And apologies for the long hiatus. Work and school have been killing me recently, and my own mind isn't helping.**

**I own nothing from Phantom of the Opera.**

**Courtney**

**Chapter 2**

"I'll have one grande Vanilla Bean Frappuccino and a tall Caramel Macchiato, please."

Christine waited while the girl at the till punched in her order. She looked like she was in high school still; her hair was tied back in a tight bun and freckles and pimples dotted her pale face. Christine noticed that she was wearing contacts…they were a light green and contrasted sharply with her dark brown eyes underneath.

The girl told Christine the price, and Christinepaid her. She flashed a quick smile at the teenager, and moved down the line to retrieve the coffee.

While she was waiting, she quickly looked at the clock on the wall. 8:50. Well, they were only 50 minutes late.

"Here's your coffee ma'am…" The girl behind the counter wasolder than the one at the till. Long brown hair flowed gracefully down her back and blue eyes stared back at her. Christine gratefully accepted the beverages. She defiantly needed something to wake her up. Walking back outside, she climbed into Meg's red car, and handed her the cold drink.

"I still can't believe you can consume something _cold_ and _frozen_ in the morning!"

Meg just shrugged as she drank her frappuccino and started the car. Christine just rolled her eyes as the vehicle rolled out of the Starbuck's parking lot and down the street.

Christine put her coffee into the cup holder and grabbed her purse. It was a large white purse; big enough to fit a sketchbook, pencils, charcoal, a tablet, her black iPod nano, her dark green cell phone, and all her money in it. These were the normal things she carried around; on the odd day she would bring her laptop as well, but the staff each had their own computer at work.

Christine and Meg, along with Sorelli, all worked together at Galatea Designers. Sorelli was the only good one out of the three; she always came to work on time. Christine and Meg were good at what they did, but their timing was a bit...off.

Meg parked the car in the staff parking lot. Christine grabbed her coffee and purse and headed in, closely followed by Meg.

When the reached the top of the flight of stairs leading to their workplace, everyone was working diligently. Before they could take another step, Sorelli appeared form her cubicle and rushed towards them.

"Where have you two been? Today was _not_ the right day to come in late! Firmin has been in an awful mood all morning! He's going to throw you two out of here for sure!"

Meg looked around. Christine shrugged her shoulders and walked towards her desk.

"We have a good explanation…"

Meg sat down at her computer and flipped the power switch on. Sorelli rolled her eyes and sat down.

"And what in God's name would _that_ be?" she asked.

"Christine was throwing up when I went to pick her up." Meg blurted it out so suddenly that Christine didn't even have to time to tell her not to say anything.

"Meg!" Christine hissed whilst plugging in her tablet.

"Well it's true!" Meg shot back. "She's been having problems keeping her meals down lately," she explained to Sorelli.

"I've lost all faith in you, Meg…" Christine muttered, plugging in her iPod to charge.

Meg flashed a winning smile. "But you still love me, right?"

Christine shrugged and zoned out Meg and Sorelli's conversation about the guys that they dated the previous night. She kept all her attention focused on her computer screen. She felt sick again. Christine glanced at her coffee, and then looked at the vending machine in the corner. Suddenly, any thought of food or drink seemed repulsive to her. She didn't want to eat; she felt as if she would be sick if she even touched food.

She realized that Meg and Sorelli had suddenly stopped their conversation. Christine saw why. Firmin was making a beeline towards their group of three cubicles, and he didn't look pleased.

Sorelli and Meg went back to their own seats. Before, they had been sitting on Christine's desk corner. Christine now felt vulnerable, which made her even sicker to the stomach.

_Great…_ she thought as Firmin stopped right in front of her. _I'm so lucky to be sick, have my landlord yell at me, and now my boss is screaming in my face. What sin have I done to deserve this?_

"Meg!" Firmin cried out. Meg came around to Christine's desk, looking more confident than usual. Christine knew that her own face was as pale as a ghost.

"Christine, Meg, I was wondered why you were late this morning?" Firmin asked them this question with an unnatural coolness.

Meg glanced at Christine and Firmin followed her stare.

"Miss Daae? Can you inform me of you and Miss Giry's lateness?"

Christine gulped down the rising bile. "Well… when Meg came to pick me up this morning, I was sick for a while before my stomach settled down enough for us to go…so that's why we were late."

Firmin considered this for a moment. "Yet…you still have time to go to Starbucks and order coffee?"

"Oh no, sir! That coffee is old. Christine got it yesterday from the Starbucks across the street." Meg jumped into the conversation.

"Is this true, Daae?"

Christine laughed to herself quietly. She had thought that this discussion had been about them coming to work late, and now it had switched to coffee. Firmin was the type of boss who let things go easily, got mad easily, and talked enthusiastically about… _coffee_.

"Yeah, it's true." She answered calmly, even though her insides were churning.

Firmin sighed and ran his hand through his graying hair.

"Just…get to work, you two, and _please_ don't be late again…"

"Yes, sir," they mumbled in unison. Firmin walked away, and Sorelli popped up from behind her computer.

"Good thing coffee was there to save the day," she said happily.

"I told you Meg, he wasn't going to get mad…" Christine threw out her full coffee and clutched her stomach.

"Why did you throw out a coffee you just got? You only took one drink out of it…" Meg glanced into her trashcan at the Starbucks paper cup.

"…Christine, are you all right?" Sorelli looked into her chalk-white face in concern.

Breathing in deeply, Christine stood up.

"I'll be right back…" She said, and then she ran into the ladies washroom.


	3. Chapter 3

**((I'm terribly sorry. Seriously, I have had over 20 people tell me the exact same thing; "you _said_ you would update soon! Like, as soon as you could! And BTW 5 months is NOT soon!"**

**Too bloody bad. I'll let you guys ALL know that writing, to me, is a pastime. I'm not intending to become a famous author. If I were planning on that, I would spend every waking moment I have writing. But, I'm not. Writing my stories is something I do when I find enough time, when I feel like it, and when I have a good idea that I would like to put down. In the past 5 months, I have been too busy and not in the mood to write.**

**I truly do hope that you all understand. And I understand that many of you are pissed off at me. Hell, if I were you I would just STOP READING anything I put out, cause I would know that the next update would be a long way away.**

**I understand that I have slow updates. If you truly appreciate my work (which I really do enjoy, I love hearing back from you guys all the time) then you will understand this. I will do my best to make regular updates, but I defiantly cannot keep many promises.))**

**A/N: Next chapter of TVS, as I like to call it! Hope you enjoy.**

**I own nothing from Phantom of the Opera.**

**Courtney**

**Chapter 3**

Meg and Sorelli greeted Christine in the ladies room as cheerfully as possible. They appeared beside her as she was rearranging her hair and smoothing her clothes. Meg gave Christine a pity filled look, but Christine glared back.

"I don't need your pity Meg…I swear, it's just a flu."

"Maybe you should go home if it's a flu! You don't want to infect the entire office. You can do work in your own apartment. I sure as hell don't want anything that you've got."

Christine stared at Meg after this outburst. She glanced towards Sorelli, who was trying desperately to not get involved in the argument. Finally, she turned back towards Meg.

"What is your _problem_? If you don't want me here, then I'll leave. Hell, if you wanted me to, I'll just quit! Wouldn't that make you happy?" Having been sick several times that morning, Christine was not in the mood to argue. She felt that Meg was not being completely fair; she wasn't the one leaning over a toilet bowl.

"No." Meg said quietly. "Just go home. I'll give you a ring later tonight."

"Fine. I'll talk to you later, then. See you later Sorelli."

Christine marched out of the washroom and went back to her desk. She gathered up her belongings and went straight to Firmin's office. Knocking loudly, she waited until her boss appeared.

"Christine? What's the matter?"

"I'm going home, Richard. I'm not feeling well. I'll phone you tomorrow to let you know how I'm doing."

"Well, okay. Just make sure you finish the Denver House assignment by the due date."

"Yes, I will," Christine said, flashing him a smile.

Turning around, she walked onto the street. She glanced towards Meg's car in the parking lot. The engine was still cooling off and the sides reflected the scene of people walking. The bends in the car's sides made the reflections seem small and awkward. The stores across the street showed the newest fashions of autumn. Expensive fur coats and designer jeans stared back at Christine from behind glass. Window shoppers on the streets stared longingly at them, just as Christine was.

She gave herself a small laugh. She was twenty-two years old, and she felt like running to her mother and begging for the coat, as if she was 13 still and had seen a graphic t-shirt that she had fallen in love with.

_My mother is dead. I can't do that,_ she thought bitterly.

The next bus that would take her anywhere near her flat would be arriving in 45 minutes. Christine wasn't about to wait for it; most of the summer warmth had left the air, and it was slowly being replaced by the chills of late September. Eventually, she decided that walking back home would at least keep her warmer and save her some money.

Plus, it would be mighty embarrassing to be sick again in public.

Christine started the half hour walk back to her home. At first she just looked lazily at shop displays and the people passing by her. She always wondered what other people's lives were like. Did they have a perfect life, with a family and a good job? Or did they have to hide their real feelings under a carefully constructed mask? In public did they appear to be happy, but when they were alone late at night, did they cry until their bodies could not cry anymore?

It was hard to tell, she found. Sometimes she wished that she could get inside of other people's heads, just to see what they were thinking. Other times, she found the idea appalling. It was really a very confusing world.

She stopped walking and waiting with a small group of other people waiting for the small white light to flash on, telling them that it was safe to walk across the busy street.

She studied the other people's faces. There was a businessman in a suit, and a woman with a sleeping toddler cradled in her arms. Another woman was listening to music and was jogging on the spot. Her hair was tied back in a lazy bun and her face bore no makeup and a light sheen of sweat.

Once the traffic stopped and the walk signal appeared, the group Christine had been standing with separated. The woman jogging sprinted ahead, leaving the rest of them far behind. The man in the suit walked quickly, glancing at his watch.

Christine walked along the same street for a few more minutes. A particularly attractive display in a jewellers store caught her attention. She stopped her walk and peered into the window, admiring an engagement ring surrounded by lilies.

Obviously her bottom must have been sticking out a bit too much, because someone had just ran right into it. Christine straightened like Cleopatra's needle and turned around. A man that was a year or so older than her and several inches taller than her was looking at her wide eyed. His face had gone bright red.

He held up his hands in front of him. "I'm terribly sorry, miss! I truly didn't mean to. It was purely by accident!"

Christine laughed at his reaction. "It's quite alright, sir. No harm done, I believe."

The man breathed a sigh of relief. He ran his hand through his blonde hair and extended the other to Christine.

"Raoul de Chagny, miss. And you are?"

Fighting the urge to laugh at his polite introduction, she shook his hand properly.

"Christine Daae," she said as formally as possible. Raoul laughed.

"You needn't mock me, miss Daae."

"Who said I was mocking you?" she answered. His dark blue eyes twinkled. Christine smiled back.

A silence settled comfortably between them. Needing something to say or do, she glanced at her watch and smiled up at him.

"Well, Mister Raoul de Chagny, it was a pleasure meeting you, but I must be going."

Raoul extended a business card to her. Christine took it and tucked it away into her purse.

"Call me sometime. We could go to the pub and talk over a daiquiri or some other form of alcohol. I will see you later, miss Daae."

Before Christine could say goodbye, he was off, weaving his way through the pedestrians on the sidewalk. He turned a corner and he was gone. Christine smiled to herself and walked the rest of the way home.

To Christine's great surprise, Andre was either out or in his back office. She wouldn't need to worry about him pestering her about rent or anything else. Quickly she retrieved her mail and stepped into the waiting elevator. She pressed the small button with the fading 7 on it, and hummed idly to the too cheerful elevator music. When it got to the seventh floor, she walked out and opened her door. Sunlight streaming in through her window and the faded sounds of cars greeted her.

Her bed was still unmade, so she decided to clean it. Since she was at home anyways, she threw off her heels and put on a pair of sweats in place of her skirt. She let her hair down from its restraint, and it sighed in relief.

Eventually, after making tea and finishing cleaning her bedroom, she sat down by her computer. The Denver House assignment was a terribly boring project. She was instructed to create costumes to fit children of the ages of five and six, and they had to resemble something to do with autumn. It was practically the most boring project on the bulletin board, but it was the easiest, and it had to get done.

Sighing in dread, she began on the project with the cheerful sounds of The Beatles playing from her stereo in the background and the cool air from outside blowing in through her now opened window.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: A few of you have been wondering how the title of this story relates to the plot. Wait no longer! This is the chapter you've been waiting for.**

**And a big thanks to Yvonne, who so willingly helped me with British currency!**

**Courtney**

**Chapter 4**

She finished the Denver House project in record time. Within five hours, she had designed costumes for twenty children, sketched them onto her laptop, and had done basic coloring on the drawings. All that was left for her to do was hand them into Firmin, and correct anything he wanted fixed. The rest would be up to the sewing crew.

Christine saved all her work and shut off the computer. She glanced over at the clock hanging on the wall; it read 2:10 in the afternoon. She rubbed her eyes and stretched out her cramped muscles. Meg and Sorelli would be getting off work in a few hours; they would defiantly come and visit her right away. Even though Christine had felt miserable that morning, the sickness had gone away. She felt perfectly normal, as if nothing had even happened.

She decided she would surprise Meg and Sorelli and make them dinner. They would probably be starved after work, and they most likely took their lunch break at noon. Christine went to her small kitchen and rummaged around until she found her mother's old cookbook. She brought the tattered book back to the sofa and flipped on the television. She turned the pages slowly, looking carefully at the recipes to determine if the food would be edible or not.

Christine had cooked quite a bit when she was younger. She had always helped her mother bake cookies or cook dinner. By the age of twelve, she was creating great food for guests and her family.

But then her mother had passed away when she was almost thirteen years old. She had stopped cooking, so her father would have to take her out for meals almost every day.

Then, when Christine was thirteen, her father died from cancer. It had been a huge blow for her, to lose both her parents within two years. She had gone to live with the Giry's until she turned eighteen, when she left for designing college. When she had come back, she found the apartment that she lived in, and found a job at Galatea Designers.

Between the time when she was twelve and now, Christine hadn't bothered to cook that often. For special occasions, though, she cooked non-stop. Meg had always joked that if she wasn't going to be a fashion designer, any restaurant in the city would hire her instantly.

Christine finally found a dinner that she enjoyed. It had been one of her mother's favourite dishes; Cajun crusted chicken.

Christine checked over the recipe. She needed one thing from the supermarket…parsley.

Sighing, she got up and put the open cookbook on the counter. She went and got quickly changed, and headed out the door.

There was a fresh fruit and vegetable market four blocks away from her home. She would run over there, buy a couple stocks of parsley, and head home to begin cooking. Normally, the recipe called for a whole chicken to be seasoned, but Christine had frozen chicken breasts in her freezer. She hoped that it wouldn't make any difference to the outcome. Her mother had always bought a fresh chicken from a nearby farm, but Christine thought that it wouldn't matter.

_Chicken is chicken, right?_

As she was walking, she wondered if she would meet that man again.

_Raoul. He said his name was Raoul de Chagny._

She stuck her hand inside her coat pocket and fingered the business card he had given her. She tried to remember all the pointless dating tips Meg had given her when they were sixteen. They were impossible to remember; there was about fifty of them. Christine would have to have a talk with Meg when she came over.

The fruits and vegetables at the stand were very reasonably priced. You could buy a bundle of grapes and five carrots for under a pound. Parsley was simple enough to buy. They didn't even weigh it; one stock of parsley cost 25 pence.

The recipe called for two stocks of parsley, finely chopped. Christine bent down to get under the tarp covering the produce. A middle-aged woman greeted her with a sweet smile, and moved on to do her job. Christine picked out two stocks of parsley and went up to the counter to pay for them. They wrapped the fresh smelling vegetable in a plastic bag, and she headed home.

She began to cook as soon as she closed her front door. Christine felt alone when she was making the meal; the last time she made this dish was with her mother.

_But…I have to learn to forget. Sure, I miss her…lots, but that shouldn't hold me back from what I love doing._

Her quick dicing and chopping skills had been lost during the years, so it took her longer than usual to chop up the ingredients, but eventually, she had the chicken breasts seasoned and in the oven.

The chicken was a quarter done when Meg appeared at her doorstep. She had a small bag from the drug store around her arm, and a smile upon her face.

"Sorelli had a date tonight," she said as she stepped inside and shrugged off her coat. She sniffed the air. "Something smells good! Have you been cooking, Christine?"

Christine nodded. "I thought you and Sorelli might enjoy Cajun chicken tonight, but I guess it's just me and you, since Sorelli already has plans."

"Mhmm…" Meg said as she went and sat on the couch. "Can I see what you got done for the Denver House thing?"

"Go ahead," said Christine, waving a hand at her laptop. Meg turned on the power and scrolled through the designs.

"These are really good, Christine! What else have you done today?"

With a sly smile, Christine told Meg about her meeting with the formal Raoul de Chagny. Christine brought out the business card he had given her.

"Remember those dating tips you gave me when we were sixteen? Do you remember any of them?" Christine burst out laughing.

Meg remained totally straight faced. She looked dead serious when she brought out what was in the small plastic bag. Christine gaped at it.

"Meg, you can't be serious!"

"Please, Christine? Just try." Meg pleaded with her as she twirled the pregnancy test between her hands.

"No! I'm not pregnant! For God's sake, Meg, I'm still a virgin!" Christine sat down opposite from her friend.

"Christine, all the signs are there. Your appetite has gone up, and you've been having morning sickness. _All the signs are there_. Can't you just try it?" Meg set the test down on the coffee table. Christine stared at it with bewilderment.

"Meg! Didn't you hear me? I. Am. A. Virgin!"

Meg sighed. "Christine, do you remember that party we went to about three weeks ago?"

"Yes…what are you getting at?"

Meg hurried on in the explanation. "Well, you had quite a bit to drink, and a few of the drinks you had were brought over to you. You told me you were going to lay down in one of the other rooms for a moment, to try and clear your head…oh, Christine!"

"Meg, what happened?" Christine voice was edged with hysteria.

"About half an hour later, I found you on one of the couches, but you were still fully clothed. What I mean is some guy might have slipped something in one of your drinks, and then…oh I can't even say it! I didn't think anything was wrong, because nothing _seemed_ wrong, you know?"

"So…you're saying…" Christine swallowed hard. "That I might have been…raped?" Her voice had gotten shaky and quiet. Meg nodded slowly, staring at the test.

"It's possible, Christine. It's possible."


End file.
